


Nocturnal

by Hooda



Series: Tipping Tides [3]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Adoption, F/M, Feels, Humming, Nightmares, Stumbling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 13:56:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9901628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hooda/pseuds/Hooda
Summary: Cassian and Jyn come up with a way to keep the monsters away in the night.





	

Cassian snaps awake, his hands fumbling to grab something to connect him to reality. The dregs of the nightmare float in the back of his mind. They’ll wait, he knows, festering and waiting for the next time he falls asleep. His throat is dry, his hands grip the blanket, and his mind slows.

Jyn stirs beside him. She presses close enough that their shoulders lean against the other, elbows brushing, fingers trailing the back of his hand. He doesn’t need a light on to tell him her eyes are open and watching him closely in the dark. The holo on the small dresser across the room blinks an hour after midnight.

“Did I wake you?”

“No.”

Their fingers twist over the blankets.

Sebastian is curled up in his own bed across the room. Cassian does not need the lights on either to know that, unlike Jyn, he is sound asleep. Probably has his arms wrapped around his pillow instead of under his head, mouth gaping open and drool slipping out.

The remnants of the nightmare drift away at the thought of Sebastian, quicker than Jyn’s lending him her warmth. Five weeks, he reminds himself, since Sebastian came home with them wrapped in Jyn’s old blue scarf and Cassian’s birth language on his tongue.

“Talk to me,” Jyn murmurs softly, careful to keep her voice down enough to not disturb Sebastian. He is easily awoken by loud noises if they aren’t careful. Cassian sometimes wonders what monsters the boy faced in the alleys of Fest; what fears kept him wary of sleep; what darkness picked at his childhood innocence until there is barely any left until he was taken from it.

He focuses on Jyn.

“It was Scarif. I was too late to stop…” he trails off, swallowing down his parched throat and squeezing his eyes shut to shove away the little snippets that lurk in the shadows. “I was too late to stop Krennic from pulling the trigger.”

It is his worst recurring nightmare since Jyn became a staple in his life. He feels the phantom memory of his back snapping with every strike against every beam as he falls. The nerves of his back erupt into blistering fire along his spine and he can feel but not at the same time, it hurts so much. He still climbs. He will always climb back for her.

No amount of pain - physical or moral otherwise - is able to compare to the devastating realization in these nightmares that Jyn dies at the top of the tower. Sometimes he makes it on time to see her standing there (defiant, sodden from war, but  _ alive _ ) before Krennic pulls the trigger. Her body will hang half off the tower, the mission ending so quickly and the rebels are left waiting for a beacon of hope that never gets transmitted. Everything crumbles around them in torrents of fire and ash and blood. Nothing hurts him as much as seeing her dead.

The rolling tide of the Death Star’s ray, or the blast of a gun, is what always snaps him awake. It throws him back into reality, the scars and the stinging memory of the visions flooding his senses until he can find her beside him. Warm, breathing; alive.

“Krennic is dead,” Jyn whispers. Her breath tickles the hair by his ear. She lays the hand that isn’t clasped over his heart and he can feel the warmth seeping from her palm. It presses down unknowingly with the weight of a hundred anchors at once, pulling him back to reality. It helps, he knows now, to have someone there for you in the dark.

“You climbed the tower. You pulled the trigger; he’s dead.” He can hear the tremor in her voice, no matter how smooth she trains herself to conceal her pain, but instead dedicating everything to focus on him.

“I love you,” he whispers so quietly he can barely hear himself. “I can’t lose you.”

“I know.”

Jyn opts to press almost her entire body into his side. She turns onto her side so she can face him, one arm curling over his shoulder, pinning him down into the mattress. He can feel as well as hear every breath she takes. It is reassuring at the same time as a way for him to focus on trying to fall back asleep.

Emphasis on  _ trying _ .

He knows from the pattern of her breathing against the side of him that she doesn’t fall asleep and Cassian really starts to wonder if she got any rest at all tonight. His chin bumps into the edge of her hairline when he turns to her.

“Did you have a bad one, too?”

A wordless nod against his shoulder is answer enough.

He reaches out for her fingers now, twists them through his and peers down into the darkness towards her face. The holo reads that he has been awake for almost half of an hour now. He’ll be damned if neither one of them gets some rest tonight.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Another wordless reply, but this time a fervent shake of  _ no _ .

After a minute, “It was about my mother.”

His fingers smooth over hers tighter; their palms rub warmly, scars brushing.

“She sang a lullaby to me, like I was a little girl again. It was a lullaby, a song really, that she sang a lot when the silence was too unbearable. I didn’t think I still remembered it.”

“You.. still remember it?”

“Parts.” Her voice is low, steady. “Sebastian likes them.”

Cassian’s eyebrows lift a little and he cannot help but let his lips turn up just a little bit. He knows it has not been easy communicating through the translation bot for the two of them, but they were trying to establish  _ something _ . The simple fact that Jyn sings to Sebastian sends a feeling through his chest that has it tightening just a little more.

“When do you sing to him?”

He can feel a little bit of a smile on her face too. The edges of it touch his shoulder which her face still lies pressed slightly against. The idea of Jyn singing through the same mouth that cusses at authority makes Cassian almost laugh. (Almost.)

“It happened when you were away last week on that mission for Command. The one where you were gone for a few nights. He couldn’t sleep the first night you were gone.”

Cassian nods a little bit, understanding what she means. Sebastian practically glues himself to his legs everyday they leave the apartment. He still isn’t accustomed to the press of little hands holding onto his pockets or the hovering of a small little double by his every step, glancing around with large eyes and a glint of curiosity.

He can imagine that going away and leaving him with someone who doesn’t even speak the same language would be sort of unsettling.

“And he fell asleep?”

Jyn nods. “Relaxed and was out before he could even get into his own bed. I let him take your spot though. Hugged your pillow the entire night.” It wasn’t really a surprise to Cassian when he got back a few days later to find the indent of a small body and the corner of his pillowcase stiff with what he at the time had to guess was drool.

They’re quiet for a little longer and Cassian thinks Jyn is asleep but her breathing again tells him otherwise. An idea brews in mind.

“What if we came up with a way of distracting ourselves from not being able to sleep? Like reading, or singing, something. Anything.” It is a far-fetched idea that he literally throws out between them like a worm on a string, hoping to catch something.

“Anything?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m not singing the lullaby. But I’ll hum it,” she deals, tightening her hand.

Cassian thinks for a moment, racks his brain for  _ something _ that they could do. For some reason the thought of singing reminds him of his parents wobbling through their small living area in their tiny home back on Fest. The memory is just a flash, a cornerstone of a life Cassian barely remembers, but it enough to spark something in him anew.

His parents may have struggled to dance properly, but the looks of delight and happiness on their faces together is one of the things that sticks with him even through adulthood, into his own relationship with someone.

“Dancing.”

Jyn nearly scoffs, but has to keep her voice down to not wake Sebastian.

“Dancing?” Cassian pokes a finger into her stomach at her snort and she has to contain herself from laughing out loud. Knowing that he can bring such delight to her is one of the few greatest pleasures Cassian has felt in the entirety of his life; the rare flash of her smile, like she hasn’t had a reason to form her mouth into anything but a scowl.

“Why not? We can try something new.”

They  _ have _ been trying a lot of new things as of recently so why not take the ridiculous leap of faith with this one? For Kriff’s sake they decided to be parents a week after returning from Fest.

“Ok, dancing and humming.” Her voice threads with mirth. It pulls a little grin he can feel against his shoulder. The holo reads close to two hours after midnight.

Cassian slowly sits up, ignoring the little sound of complaint from Jyn that would be louder if it weren’t so damn late. He shoves away the blankets and pulls himself out of bed. Jyn’s fingers slide from his hand, curving around the bend in his side, feather-light as they drift down over his back. He knows she traces the little plaits of scar tissue that is the only reminder of his  _ post-fall-from-Scarif’s-tower  _ surgery.  _ Idiot _ , she’d called him afterwards; _ what an idiot for climbing all the way back up. _

“Come on.”

They haul themselves as quietly as possible from their bed, careful to not make any more noise that could wake Sebastian up. For once they are grateful that they have such sound stone floors. Their footfalls are muffled and they have more liberty to move without fear of a plank or board bending under their feet, noisily.

The large windows of their living space and kitchen expose an iridescent array of moonlight hitting the planes of glass, reflecting cooly on the floors of the apartment. The shadows of toy ships loitered all over the floor stretch far. They never even stop to agree on the ridiculousness of what they are doing.

Since childhood Saw has always taught Jyn that the practice of holding another person close could be dangerous. There were no lessons in love, or relationships for that matter, or how to separate the intense need to survive from the acts of selflessness someone is able to commit. He never taught her that not every hand that touches her is going to hurt or betray or leave her. It was always known to Jyn, a law she was raised by and repeated for the rest of her life like it like a worn line of leather, that there was no softness to another person’s touch.

But ever since Cassian threw himself into her life she cannot help but feel different about that law now. She can’t seem to apply it now as Cassian’s hand slips around her waist and pulls her close. It settles in the spot just over her hipbone but just below her belly; it is warm and inviting. So she pushes herself closer, sliding her arms up his chest and over his shoulders, around his neck. The edges of his uncut hair tickle her fingertips.

Like the art of physical touch, dancing is a foreign concept to her.

They sway in the dark, a column of uncertainty and muffled humming in the drifting moonlight wafting through their windows.

Their feet pick their way through the mess of toys on the floor with practiced precision (Cassian made the mistake of stepping on a piece of a building set earlier that week and went down like a stone; Jyn had laughed herself hoarse). His arms guide the way, slowly, through the room as her humming presses around them like a blanket of warmth.

The song is one he does not recognize, but cherishes simply because  _ she _ sings it. It thrums between the two of them like a light in the dark; it pushes away the dregs of nightmares and sleeplessness and pours into their minds.

Jyn rests her head just over his collarbone in the niche between his chest and neck, forehead pressed to the skin there, and sighs. Cassian feels that tightness in his chest again; the constricting right over his heart; the light that floods his senses when she does something small or just trusts him.

At some point, they simply stop moving and stand there in the dark. Her arms drop around his waist and he drapes his over his shoulders. The warmth of her body is enough to convince Cassian that  _ this _ is it.

Where his life was once conquered by the brutal cold of the Alliance is now flooded over the brim with warmth and chest twinges. It is something that Cassian realizes he has been hungry for since childhood; the small touches of trust and love. He craves them when they get separated for missions and the feelings return when he sees his adoptive son curled around his leg like a Lothcat.

_ Love _ ; that is the word that repeats in his head.

It’s what propels him to cook with delight.

It’s what motivates him to finish missions quickly for, to come home to  _ her _ .

It’s what keeps him sane and reminds him of his capacity of humanity.

Sebastian shuffles under his blankets in their room. Jyn breathes against his neck, a pulse of reassurance. The darkness cloaks them soundly. Their arms hold onto each other close as their hearts keep with the beat of the dance; spiraling, tapping.

_________

He hears her one night singing to Sebastian on the other side of the room. The bed is too small to hold her weight, but she has her back nonetheless leaning against the side. In the dim light of the sunrise he sees her head tipped back against Sebastian’s. She keeps her knees up to her chest, hands clasped loosely around the caps.

It is the same song she uses when they dance under the stars. Cassian lays in silence, listening. She only stops when she nods off against Sebastian’s pillow, basked in sunlight.

_________

They’ve mastered a little routine to spin with by the end of the year. It had been slow work. Jyn especially takes pride in being able to be gently spun and  _ not _ step on Cassian’s toes. Their footfalls are almost breathless against the stone floor by the end of the first month. He masters her lullaby in less than three weeks.

It should worry them, they know, that they are awake so much. But they ultimately do not care in the end so long as they find a way to replace the lingering horror of night terrors with something warmer.

Sometimes, they laugh quietly under shared breaths as they glide through the living space, avoiding toys and furniture alike. It is an unspoken agreement between the two of them to end the odd nocturnal ritual by stopping to simply  _ be _ in the others’ arms.

He smooths his fingers over the expanse of her back as she breathes against his skin.

_________

“You look exhausted,” Ondike Felm tells her one day as she is preparing a case for shipment to a nearby colony. It was a miniscule cluster of failing towns trying to make ends meet since the collapse of the Empire, but ultimately relying on the New Republic for aid.

Jyn sets the crate with the rest in the ship’s hold and wipes a wrist across her perspiring brow. The late night of dancing and humming took a toll on her this week in particular; he had just returned from a devastating mission. She is certain he dreams of red.

“Just tired,” she mutters back.

_________

“Mami,” Sebastian whispers into the darkness. Jyn slurs awake and grunts something across the room. Cassian’s spot is empty - mission to Iros - and Sebastian stands by the end of her bed. His eyes are wide and she thinks she can see tears. Jyn opens her arms.

Sebastian takes that as initiative to crawl up to her level. The bed shakes a little as she moves over to make room for him and he takes Cassian’s spot.

“Bad dream?” she whispers as she runs a hand through his thick hair. It reminds her so much of Cassian’s it’s like his double sits here with her. Not an orphan; a stray, her son. Sebastian nods shakily against her fingers and reaches out to curl himself closer to her.

“Wanna talk about it?” She gets a small  _ no _ in response to that.

“Can you sing?” he asks in the quiet accented voice.

This time is Jyn’s turn to wordlessly respond - a nod - and pulls the blankets closer around them to stamp out the winter cold of Naboo.

_________

Years seem to pass and the ritual seems to pass with the time. She still hums, sometimes when she’s eating alone or when Cassian is rubbing the spot between his eyebrows rough from stress. The dancing becomes a hinderance to their sleep.

But it still holds onto the back of their minds, a little reminder of the tenderness they share. He’ll sometimes twirl her for fun when she stands - beautiful, radiant - under the sun that streams through the windows.

The dancing comes in little bursts through the years, along with little snippets of laughter that seems to waft through the apartment. When Sebastian turned eight they find a new home farther away from the bustle of Command, but still in the heart of Ikara.

Missions keep them apart sometimes and Jyn finds herself often humming quietly as she works, or heats up leftover meals, or is focusing on sorting work on her datapad.

Sebastian is cleaning his blaster - a gift for his thirteenth birthday from Jyn - when it occurs to him that his parents aren’t even married. He peeks out from the doorway of his bedroom, down the hall towards the kitchen that sits at the end of the apartment. They stand by the counter; his father washes the dishes with a scrub as his mother takes the soaked plates and dries them with an old towel.

Cassian looks to Jyn - of course, humming - when the idea occurs to him. He turns off the water nozzle and doesn’t even dry his soapy hands when he reaches for Jyn. She smiles up at him knowingly and sets down the plate, carefully.

They smile and press close together in practiced ease, hands clasped easily and leading the way gently. Their feet fall into a steady cadence of familiar back and forth, side to side, never losing their memorized breathless footfalls. Jyn smiles so tenderly at Cassian he could melt from that look alone rather than the heat of the sun beating down on his back. He hums softly and Jyn rests her head in the niche of his neck and shoulder.

Their hands press customarily against his chest, just over his heart. Through the fabric of his shirt he feels her tracing words along the lines of his ribs.

_ Home, home, home.  _

**Author's Note:**

> Criticism? Good or bad, leave it below! - H:D


End file.
